


What Is Love, Anyway?

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [35]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Clubbing, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Meet the Family, Possessive Behavior, Supernatural AU - Freeform, babe's ma is a gift, bad break up, demon ron speirs, gene's kinkier than anticipated, hunter carwood lipton, hunter dick winters, vampire nix, witch gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: It's a troublesome thing, love.





	What Is Love, Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this.

Kitty Welsh paused in wiping down the bar, cocked her head, and listened for a moment to Harry’s quiet murmur in the back room. “Is that Dick?!” She called over her shoulder, but of course Harry didn’t answer her. She rolled her eyes and pushed away from the bar, dropping the wash rag back into the cleaning bucket. Across the bar from her, Webster and Garcia continued to chat and drink their beers. 

Kitty made her way toward the back and leaned against the door frame so that she could see where Harry stood looking out the back door, his cell phone pressed to his ear. She folded her arms across her chest and contented herself to simply watch him as he nodded, and said “Yeah, sure. See you soon.” Finally, he hung up and turned, jumping when he saw her in the doorway. He huffed and rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you snuck up on me again.”

Kitty laughed. “Of course I did. You never have been very good at watching your six.”

Harry grinned. “Good thing I have you then, huh?”

Kitty smiled back at her adorable, if frustrating, husband. “Yeah, good thing.” He sauntered up to her then and wrapped his arms around her waist. He simply held her for a moment, breathing in her scent, and she held him back, happy to be held. Then, she cleared her throat and said “Was that Dick on the phone?”

“Yeah. They’ll be here soon.”

“Good.” Kitty nodded. “The bar’s really slow tonight—just Web and Garcia.”

“That’s about as good as we can hope for around here.”

“What do you think?”

Harry pulled back to look her in the eyes. “It’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” She searched his face for signs of worry. “It’s not exactly the first time we’ve let…someone like _him, _in, but it’s not usual either.”

“Yeah,” Harry assured. “The boys that’re here won’t start anything, and the others know the house rules. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” Kitty nodded. “In that case, you should head out to the boundary. You’ll have to lower the property ward for him.” 

“Yeah.”

“And I’ll lower the one on the building.” Harry frowned, the lines on his forehead showing his consternation. “What?” Kitty said, pulling back. “Not worried, are you?”

“No,” Harry insisted, lying through his teeth.

Kitty rolled her eyes at him and reached out, smoothing his frown lines away. “You just said it’ll be fine, so it will be. Besides, you’ve met him before. You said it went fine then.”

“Yeah.”

“And besides, it’s Dick. Dick’s family. Dick wouldn’t let anything happen.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “You’re right.”

“And you don’t need to worry about me. You know that.”

Harry chucked. “Yeah, I know, sweetheart.”

“Can’t help it though, can you?”

Harry grinned sheepishly, the gap in his teeth making his smile even more boyish and charming. “Nope.”

“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself. And anyway, he won’t do anything.”

“Nix.”

“What?” Kitty asked, tilting her head in question.

“His name is Nix. Dick’ll notice if we just keep calling the guy ‘him’.”

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fair enough.” She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “Go open the ward for Nix.”

Grin still fixed firmly in place, Harry gave a sloppy salute and said “Got it.” Then he sauntered out of the back door and Kitty was left alone in the back room, hoping again that they’d all made the right decision.

Nix looked relaxed except that Dick could see how white his knuckles had gone from gripping the steering wheel so tight. Harry had waved them down the drive, lowering the wards so that Nix could enter. That very act was one of trust, and Dick wouldn’t ever forget it. But now they were here, sitting in the mostly-empty parking lot, and neither of them had summoned the courage to move or mention it yet. 

Coming here was an act of bravery for Nix, and of devotion to Dick. He’d come all this way, and to what? To prove that he was trying? That he wanted to be a part of Dick’s life? That he was a good person, at his core? Dick already knew all of those things, and he thought he’d made it clear that Nix didn’t have to keep trying to prove it to him, but maybe he’d failed somewhere along the way, because here they sat in Nix’s beautiful car, a vampire and his hunter lover, in front of the most notorious hunter bar on this side of the country. And Nix was about to walk into the place, trusting, and hopeful, for Dick. 

Knowing this, Dick unclenched his own hands and reached out, laying one of them over top of Nix’s on the steering wheel until it loosened and relaxed. Nix turned to look at him and gave him a close-mouthed smile, no fang, but his eyes were dark and wide, and Dick could still see the fear in them. He couldn’t imagine what this was costing Nix. “We’re here.” Dick murmured. “You okay to go inside?”

“Yeah,” Nix gulped, nodding. “Yeah.”

Dick lowered his voice to its most soothing and said “We don’t have to, Nix. If you want, we can leave now, go back to the hotel.”

And Nix’s shoulders relaxed a fraction at the words, and Dick could tell he was grateful, though he shook his head and said “No, we’re already here. Let’s go say hello.”

“Right.” Dick nodded, then leaned across the seat to press a soft kiss against Nix’s lips. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

And now Nix’s smile was a bit more real. “I know.” He cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders back, then, and, popping the door open, said “Let’s go.”

The bar’s front door opened before Dick could knock, and the ever-beautiful Kitty leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed, hip cocked, small smile on her face. Though Dick had been friends with her for years, he was still surprised by how petite she was, knowing what he knew about her hunting abilities. Her dark, wavy hair was pulled back into a messy bun and she was dressed simply in blue jeans, boots, and a black t-shirt that had the name “Currahee” written on the front. Nix paused next to him when he saw her, and Dick felt him tense up slightly, but Dick simply smiled and said “Kitty. You look lovely tonight.”

Kitty rolled her eyes and took a step out of the bar. “Dick.” She smirked. “So do you.” He huffed a laugh and she murmured “Come here.” So Dick went to her and wrapped her in a warm hug. She was small in his arms, but her grip was strong, and she perched her chin on his shoulder for just a moment before she pulled back and turned her attention now to Nix. She fixed her smile in place again, but it wasn’t quite as easy as it had been before. “You must be Lewis Nixon,” she said, giving him a very obvious once over, sizing him up. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Uh… yes, ma’am.” Nix said, and Dick turned to look at him, brow quirked, because he’d never heard Nix be so polite. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

Kitty smirked now, like she knew she had Nix sweating. “All lies, I’m sure.” She held out her hand for him. “Kitty Welsh. Nice to meet you.”

And Dick watched, happy and proud, when Nix took her smaller hand in his and shook firmly. Kitty was obviously pleased as well, because she jerked her head toward the door. “Welcome to Curahee. Come on in, Nix.” And Dick was grateful to her, then, that she hadn’t make them ask, that she hadn’t put Nix any more on the spot. Just one more reason that Dick loved Kitty.

They followed her into the bar and found the place blessedly quiet and nearly empty. A radio was on in the back, playing some classic rock music, and the place was clean and tidy, and only Webster and Garcia sat on the stools, nursing bottles of beer.

“Lewis Nixon, this is David Webster,” Kitty said, motioning toward Web. “He’s our librarian and researcher. And this is Tony Garcia—part time bartender, part time hunter-in-training.” Tony raised a couple fingers in a short hello, and Webster nodded politely. “Boys,” Kitty motioned between them, “this is Lewis Nixon.”

“Nix,” Nix cut in. 

“Nix,” Kitty corrected. “He’ll be visiting for a bit.”

“Right,” Webster said, nodding with authority now, “Nix. The, uh….” Kitty and Dick both quirked their brows, waiting for the end of the sentence, but Webster seemed finally to have gauged the room, and he swallowed thickly, taking the word _vampire _with it. “Nice to meet you,” Webster corrected.

“Yeah,” Nix nodded. “You, too.”

In the middle of the introductions, Harry bounded in from the back room and clapped a hand on Webster’s shoulder before coming to stand next to, and wrap an arm around his wife. He smirked at Webster then cast a real smile toward Dick and Nix. “Nix is a translator too, Web. He’ll probably be helping out a bit in the library.”

“Oh?” Webster asked, brow quirked. He focused on Nix once more, this time seeing him as a new threat. “What languages _do you _speak?”

Nix shrugged. “Latin, Greek, and French.”

Webster sniffed slightly and said “Hmm. Sounds like a Classic education.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Webster’s drama and said “Web here went to Harvard, so you’ll have to excuse him.”

“I did.” Webster said, sounding defensive. He continued to eye Nix like his new competition. “And you? Where did you, uh…pick up Greek?”

“Yale.” Nix smirked.

“Oh, God,” Kitty said, rolling her eyes. “Not another one.” At that, Nix laughed, and Dick’s heart leapt to hear that it was real.

* * *

Carwood stared down at the half-written text message and wondered again if he had truly lost his mind. Luz was behind the bar tonight, along with Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye, and the bar was busy already, even at this early hour. A bunch of the younger Wolves were rowdily dominating the pool tables, laughing and joking, slapping each other on the back as they teased. They’d warily accepted Carwood into their midst on the apparently good word of George Luz and the good graces of the Doc, who Carwood learned very quickly was both loved and feared by the Wolves. They seemed to respect and appreciate him, though, and the fact that he seemingly tolerated and even helped Carwood had gone a long way toward settling their hackles. Now Carwood sat in the middle of a werewolf bar and he ran his thumb over the face of his phone once more. To send or not to send?

He shivered again, just thinking of Ron’s voice on the other end of the line, saying _I never meant to hurt you _and _Meet me, please, _and _You don’t have to be afraid. _Ron could still purr his name, _Carwood, _in a way that made it sound more sensual than it ever had before. Carwood knew it was a stupid idea. He should’ve hung up the phone, should have blocked Ron’s number, or changed his own once more. He didn’t owe the demon anything. 

_Demon. _That’s what Ron was. Despite the soft, aching thud of Carwood’s heart that protested otherwise, Ron was not a man. He was a demon, an evil creature that had stalked Carwood for months and lied to him, and tricked him into caring. Then he’d tried to hurt Carwood’s friends and he’d smashed Carwood’s heart into pieces. He didn’t owe him anything, except for maybe another quick trip to the Basement. So why in the world was he sitting here, staring down at an unsent text, and avoiding Luz’s eyes whenever the shifter turned to glance at him?

Carwood clenched his fingers around the crucifix in his pocket, and began to recite the words in his head: _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, omnis legio…._

He could do it if he had to. He could. No smile, no amount of sweet talking would work this time. He could do it. 

_So why are you going? _Some days, he hated the little voice at the back of his mind that sounded like a mix of his mother and Dick. The voice was reasonable, and that annoyed Carwood to no end, because _he _was reasonable, and he didn’t need that voice to point out that this was a reckless path. He already _knew that. _

_Why, then?_

Carwood closed his eyes for a moment, and allowed himself to be honest. _Because I need closure. It was too much, last time. I was in shock. I couldn’t wrap my head around what I was seeing, hearing. All I saw was him, screaming, and then…gone. Now I need to stand in front of him and see him for what he truly is. I need to look him in the eyes and know that a devil is looking back at me. I need that, so that I can move on and do what I need to do. _

Carwood took a fortifying swallow of his beer and finished tapping out the text message: _There’s an abandoned warehouse on 5th and Canal. Meet me there at 11. _He pressed send before he had time to think about it again.

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want anymore, dear?” Babe’s ma asked, frowning at Gene from across the table. “You’re still awfully skinny.” Babe held back a grin as Gene blushed and murmured that he was actually quite full already. “Well, alright, if you’re sure, then.” 

Gene stood then and helped Babe’s ma clean up and put the rest of the food in the fridge for later. Babe had already started working on the dishes, like a good son, and he noticed Gene shoot him a soft grin. 

“Alright, boys, well, I better head out. My shift starts soon. Any plans for the night? Babe, you workin’?” His ma asked as she patted her hands dry on the towel next to the sink then fixed her hair just so.

“Got the night off,” Babe said, casting her a big grin. “Gene and I were gonna go hit one of the clubs.”

“Ooooh, sounds fun,” she cooed, shooting them both a conspiratorial smile. “Just be careful, out there,” she warned. “You know, don’t take drinks from anyone but the bartender. You have no idea how many cases end up in the ER because of something like that.”

“We’ll be careful,” Gene assured her in his deep, solemn voice that always sounded so responsible. 

“Oh, I’m sure you will, dear.” She smiled softly one more time then patted Gene on the cheek before doing the same to Babe. “Have a good night, then!” Then she grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

After she’d gone and the dishes were done, Babe leaned back against the sink, towel thrown over his shoulder like he did at the bar, and he eyed Gene, where the other man stood, awkward, in the middle of the kitchen. “So,” Babe said, clearing his throat, “are you excited for our, uh….”

“Date?” Gene asked. “Is that what this is?”

Babe shrugged. “Sorta, I guess. I mean…if you wanna call it that.”

Gene smiled. “We’re doing things a bit backwards, ain’t we?” He cocked a brow. “Aren’t the dinner and dancing things supposed to come before the….” He waved his hands around them. 

“The whole battling evil witches and meeting the parents thing?” Babe asked. “Yeah, I s’pose so.” He chuckled, then ran his hands together. “You nervous about tonight?”

Gene shrugged. “A bit, I guess. I mean… I haven’t been to one of these things in years. A lot has changed since then.”

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Babe insisted. “We could stay in, or go do something else. Like…I dunno. A movie. Or bowling. Or, uh….”

“The club is fine.” Gene insisted. He looked down at himself. “I dunno if I have anything nicer than this to wear,” he said, motioning down to his jeans and tight black t-shirt. “It wasn’t what I was thinkin’ of when I packed.”

Babe snorted and pushed away from the sink, reaching for Gene and pulling him in by his hips. “Trust me, Gene, you’re gonna be the sexiest guy in room no matter what you’re wearin’. This is perfectly fine.”

Gene quirked a brow. “The sexiest, huh?”

Babe couldn’t help blushing. “Oh, yeah.”

Babe hadn’t been to the club in almost a year, though he used to drop by often enough to know that their music was decent, their crowds were big, and they didn’t care who you were there with. There was a line twisting away from the front door and down the street, but as they approached, the bouncer, who knew Babe from the bar scene, tipped his head in acknowledgement and let he and Gene enter at the front of the line. Gene quirked a brow at him, but Babe simply shrugged, smiling. 

Inside, the club was just like Babe remembered it—close and loud, dark, except for the flashing of the colored, sparkling lights. A bouncy techno song blasted through the speakers and the bass was strong enough that Babe could feel it behind his ribcage, and man, that was just the way he liked it. He turned to look at Gene over his shoulder, to gauge his reaction, but the other man was observing the club calmly. Babe furrowed his brows. “You okay?” He called, over the deep bass of the music.

“Yeah!” Gene called back. “Just…gettin’ my bearings.”

“Let’s get a drink!” Babe suggested. At Gene’s nod, Babe grasped Gene’s fingers and pulled him toward the neon-lighted bar, where a mass of young people were gathered. “Beer?” Babe asked, pulling Gene toward him to make space for the both of them at the bar.

“Sure.” Gene agreed. The flashing lights cast his face in strange shadows—his cheekbones looked sharper, his chin pointier, his eyebrows more serious. The lights painted his face a pale white, then drenched his skin in colors—blues, oranges, greens, bright pinks. He was beautiful. He was serious. His eyes scanned the crowd like he was searching for missing faces again, and that wouldn’t do.

Babe bumped his shoulder and tightened his fingers on Gene’s. “It’s just you and me,” Babe whispered, leaning in so close that his lips brushed against Gene’s ear.

“Right.” Gene nodded, and forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Service was slow, but they eventually got their drinks and they moved to the edge of the bar so that they could drink with minimal jostling. They watched the other dancers while they took their time, relaxing. The crowd was a mix of young men and women, dressed in short skirts, jeans, and tight shirts of every color. The air was thick with perfume and sweat, clinging to their skin already, making Babe’s shirt feel damp. “You okay?” He asked, leaning to speak into Gene’s ear again.

“Yeah.” Gene answered. He tipped his beer back and drained it. “Let’s dance.” He decided.

Babe wasn’t finished with his beer yet, but he wasn’t about to say no when Gene had _that _look on his face, so he nodded and pushed his bottle onto the bar, no longer caring what happened to it. He allowed Gene to lead him onto the dance floor, into the midst of the writhing bodies. 

The crush of strangers pressed them together so that they were sharing space, and Babe’s hands fluttered, unsure, over Gene’s body. “What’re you doin’, Edward?” Gene called, quirking a brow.

Babe laughed awkwardly. “So…I might not’ve mentioned, but uh…I’m not really good at dancin’!”

Gene smiled and there was something about that particular look that had Babe’s blood pumping quickly—it was a bit dark, a bit sharp, but also sexy as hell. It was a side of Gene Babe had gotten a glimpse of before, but hadn’t fully seen. He gulped as Gene leaned forward and said “That won’t be a problem, Edward. I got you. Just follow my lead.” And then Gene reached out for Babe’s hands and planted them firmly on Gene’s hips. Gene pressed, insistently, until Babe tightened them, and Gene took a step closer so that they were definitely in each other’s space. “Hold on.” Gene shouted. Then he closed his eyes and allowed the music to move him. 

His hips swayed against Babe’s, and Babe held on, mimicking the movement. The crowd pressed in around them, pushing them closer and closer together, so that Gene was plastered to him, their bodies grinding together to the pulsing music, the flashing lights casting everything in a delirious flicker of shadow and swirling color. Gene’s body rocked to the beat, his movements synching perfectly with the bass, so that all Babe had to do was copy him, and he was suddenly a part of all of it, absorbed into the crowd. A smile spread across Gene’s lips, though his eyes were still closed and he focused on the song, or maybe the movement, or maybe on the feel of Babe. Or maybe on nothing at all, or everything all at once.

Eventually, the song transitioned to another and their bodies were pressed tighter. It was awkward for a moment, then Gene pressed a knee between Babe’s so that they could be even closer than they were before, and Babe felt himself blush, felt the heat swallow him up. But the crowd didn’t know or care. Everyone kept moving, hot and sweaty, and drunk. 

Babe’s fingers twitched on Gene’s hips and Gene blinked his eyes open and glanced up at Babe. His eyes were as dark as ever, and not for the first time, Babe wondered if it was possible to drown in them. Gene smiled up at him. “Gettin’ the hang of it, Edward?” He asked, though his voice was deeper than usual, husky. And _damn, _if this was how Gene got at the club, Babe was glad he’d proposed it.

“Yeah,” Babe croaked. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good,” Gene said, then before Babe could react, he turned, abruptly, so that his back was pressed to Babe’s front. “Keep it up.” Gene ordered. He pressed back into Babe, so that the whole length of him, from his shoulders to his knees, was flush against Babe’s body. Babe wrapped his arms further around Gene, so that they curled over his hips and belly and pulled him back against his body. Gene hummed and Babe felt it rumble through their bodies. Gene tipped his head back against Babe’s shoulder and closed his eyes once more. His hand wound up and around the back of Babe’s neck, to hold him close, and they rocked together that way. And it was the sexiest thing that Babe had ever experienced outside of sex with Gene. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he realized that they might as well be doing it here and now, in front of all of these people. And Gene, hell…this Gene was different from any version Babe had seen before. Usually the man was so mature, so serious. He was still focused, intent but more playful, more completely willing to exercise his dark, mysterious sexuality. But Babe wasn’t about to protest. He was the luckiest man on the planet that Gene was here with him tonight. 

Babe was flushed and sweaty, and his mind was blessedly empty except for thoughts of Gene: the feel of his strong, lithe body pressed to Babe’s in all the best ways, his fingers curling in the hair at the back of Babe’s neck, the weight of his head on Babe’s shoulder, the heat trapped between them, the slick sweat on Gene’s neck. Following instinct, Babe bent his head and pressed his lips against Gene’s neck—he tasted salt and clean skin, and it was intoxicating. 

Suddenly, though, he was jerked from his reverie as a couple bumped into them. The man and woman looked at the two of them hungrily, like wolves. The girl licked her lips and stared up at Gene, then back to her partner for a moment, before she turned her eyes to them once more. “Hey guys,” she shouted, over the impossibly loud beat of the music, “is this a private party, or can we join? We saw you across the floor and it looks like you’re having a great time.”

Gene’s eyes fluttered all the way open and he turned his head so that he could look up at Babe, brow quirking, and suddenly Babe felt brave, and sexy too, like there was nothing in the world to worry about. He shrugged and Gene smirked. Babe cleared his throat. “What the hell?” He called back, and that seemed to be all the invitation the couple needed. The next thing he knew, the man and woman were pressed to their sides, and there were hands everywhere: up and down Babe’s sides, caressing his hips, in his hair, and then Gene was being pulled away from him. The man—a tall blonde—wrapped his arms around Babe’s hips and pulled him close. The woman, dark-skinned with long, silky purple hair, tugged Gene close and began to grind on him. Babe could barely feel where the blonde was holding him, because his eyes were fixed over the man’s shoulder on Gene, who was staring back at Babe while the beautiful woman ground her hips back against his. Gene’s long, beautiful fingers inched around her waist to hold her close and his eyes fixed on Babe’s, and Babe thought that maybe he was supposed to feel jealous, but he didn’t, because this man and woman were only here for a moment—harmless fun. Gene’s eyes were on Babe, and Babe was only thinking about Gene. So Babe wrapped his arms around the blonde’s shoulders and moved his hips to the beat, and he kept his eyes fixed on Gene. Babe’s cheeks continued to flush and his hair was damp with sweat. The blonde murmured something, but Babe didn’t hear, wasn’t listening. He watched the woman laugh and spin so that she could face Gene. She stood up on her tiptoes and shouted something into his ear. He laughed, and then he was spinning her away and the two of them were hauling the blonde away from Babe. The woman’s hands grasped at her partner and he went back to her, giving Babe a sheepish grin and a shout of “Thanks!” As he did. Babe managed to hear the woman giggle one more time and say “Sexy as hell,” before Gene was up in his space once more, facing Babe this time, and his hands were wrapping possessively around Babe’s hips, then moving up over his belly and chest, around his neck. The music continued to pulse around them. 

Gene pressed closer and leaned up, so that his breath brushed against Babe’s neck, his lips touched Babe’s ear, and he said, very clearly, “Edward, take me home now.”

And Babe figured he’d be a fool to argue with an order like that, so he nodded without question, grabbed Gene’s hand, and pulled him quickly from the club.

* * *

“So, this is your library?” Nix asked, taking in the shelves of books that ringed the modest room.

“Yep, this is it.” Harry said, spreading his arms wide to take it in. “We’ve got all sorts of occult books, mythology, folklore, history, spells, and the like.”

“It’s actually a very impressive collection,” Webster said, crossing his arms as he settled into a seat at one of the small study tables. “We’ve got some ancient tomes, and books in many different languages.”

“Yeah,” Nix agreed, nodding. “It looks great.”

“I’m in the middle of translating a Latin text at the moment.” Webster added.

Harry nodded. “Does that seem like the kind of thing you’d be willing to help with? Right now, Webster’s the only Latin guy we’ve got.”

“Sure,” Nix shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like a problem. Don’t know how long Dick plans on hanging around, but I’ll definitely make myself useful while I’m here.”

“Great.” Harry motioned him over to a shelf on the left side of the room. “Here are the books that haven’t been translated yet.”

“Alright.” Nix glanced over the titles and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, Harry…do you know where Dick ran off to?”

“Kitty kidnapped him, probably.” Harry sighed. “She has a habit of doing that. I’m sure they’re in another room, gossiping about you.” He chuckled. “Want me to find him for you?”

“Nah,” Nix said, waving him off. “I’m good. Just let him know I’m in the library if he asks, would ya?”

“Sure.” Then, shrugging, Harry made himself scarce, and Nix was alone in the library with the most frightened looking human he’d ever met (though the man was doing his best to pretend like he was unaffected by Nix’s presence.)

“So,” Webster cleared his throat. “Yale, was it?”

Nix fought not to roll his eyes. “Yep.” He quirked a brow. “Harvard, right?”

“Yes. Graduating class of 2014.”

Nix snorted softly. “So what, you start hunting as soon as you left undergrad?”

“No.” Webster said, sounding indignant. “If you must know, I was pursuing a graduate degree in Classical studies when I was approached by a hunter for a translation. It piqued my curiosity.”

“So what, they recruited you?”

“Of a sort.” Webster sniffed. “When did you graduate from Yale?”

Nix quirked a brow and couldn’t help the tiny smirk that curled the corner of his lips. “1916.”

Webster’s lips thinned and his face went pale. “Ah,” he said, “good year.” Then, seemingly hearing his own words, he pulled a book across the table toward him and buried his nose in it. 

Nix snorted under his breath then went to the shelf that Harry had indicated. There were quite a few interesting tomes, but Nix selected one titled _De Legiones Inferos, _or The Legions of Hell. It appeared to be late Medieval in composition, and when Nix cracked it open, he confirmed it with the vellum pages. Well, the topic was relevant at least. Might as well start there.

He settled across the table from Webster with his own book. “Got any paper? And a pencil?” He asked. Webster’s heart leapt in his chest at having been addressed, but again, he fought not to show his reaction. Instead, he simply nodded and dug through a messenger bag on the desk for the required materials. His hand shook slightly as he passed them to Nix. “Thanks,” Nix murmured, and he got down to work. Across the table, Webster’s pulse was steadily accelerating, and Nix almost felt bad for the guy, but what was he supposed to do? He was literally sitting here quietly, wracking his brain over Latin conjugations that he hadn’t had to bother with in decades. 

They worked in silence for about twenty minutes, but then Webster, seeming to have gathered some courage, looked up from his book and said “So, how’s the translation coming along?” His voice barely even wobbled.

Nix shrugged. “It’s coming, more or less.”

Webster nodded. “Can I see which one you’re reading?” 

“Sure.” Nix handed the book over and Webster took it delicately so that he could read the finely etched title.

“Ah, the _Legions of Hell. _Good choice.”

“Figured it’d be an interesting read.” Nix supplied.

“Just curious,” Webster said, sliding his finger across the subtitle on the volume, “but how did you translate the word _imperium_?”

Nix shrugged. “Dominion.”

Webster quirked a brow. “That’s…interesting.”

“It reads: _The Legions of Hell: Commanders and their Dominions_.”

“Hmmm.”

“What?” Nix asked.

“Oh, nothing. I just think that’s a rather…_poetic_ translation, is all.”

Nix rolled his eyes. Webster seemed to have overcome his fear in rather short order. “And how would you have translated it, then?”

“I think it pretty obviously reads: _The Legions of Hell: Governors and their Authorities._”

Nix furrowed his brows and scoffed at the obviously poor translation. “In what world would that make sense?”

“Well, I think it’s obvious,” Webster started, but Nix cut him off.

“No, look. This is a Medieval text written in Latin. That means this person was educated by the Church and the Church described the _legions of Hell _in a very similar way to the Romans describing their military forces.”

Webster rolled his eyes. “_Praefectus _obviously means governor or overseer.”

“Sure,” Nix conceded, “unless you’re talking about a military organization, then it obviously means officer or commander.” Nix rolled his eyes. “Considering the Church viewed the forces of Hell more like an army of soldiers rather than bureaucrats, that’s the translation I’m going with.” He snorted for a minute, “Though to be fair, an army of bureaucrats sounds like worse torture.”

Webster narrowed his eyes at Nix but shrugged his shoulders, like he didn’t care. He focused on his own book again and so Nix went back to his translation. A few minutes later, though, Webster murmured “You’re translation’s wrong.”

Nix looked up at him and quirked a brow. “My translation’s just fine.” 

Webster jerked his head up, and his heart leapt in his chest. His eyes widened and his face grew suddenly pale, and that’s when Nix realized that the man must have whispered it quietly enough that he obviously wasn’t supposed to hear it—and wouldn’t have, if he was a human. “I, uh… I need some water.” Webster stuttered, then pushed back from his chair and scurried from the room before Nix could say anything else.

Nix shrugged, frustrated and amused all at once, then he returned to his work.

About ten minutes later, his shoulders relaxed when he caught a whiff of Dick’s scent and then heard the floorboards creak behind him. “So what did you do to terrify Webster?”

Nix huffed and turned around to find Dick smirking at him from the doorway. “The guy was bitching about my translation. Only, he didn’t think that I could hear him, and I obviously did.”

Dick snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like Webster.”

Nix grudgingly asked “Is he gonna be alright? I thought the guy was gonna have a heart attack.”

Dick smirked. “He’ll be fine. He’s currently drowning his sorrows in a glass of red at the bar. It’s probably good for him, though—he could use a little real world experience.”

Nix chuckled. “So long as it’s not gonna bring the torches and pitchforks out.”

“Please,” Dick huffed, “that was so last century—we’re professionals here.” Nix’s mouth fell open but before he could comment, Dick said, “Come on, let’s go take a walk. It’s nice tonight and I want to show you around.”

Nix huffed a laugh then smiled. “Alright.”

Webster shivered and took another gulp of his wine. Kitty rolled her eyes as he continued, saying “You don’t understand, Kitty, he _heard _me.”

“So he snarked back at you, he didn’t come for your life, Web,” Kitty answered, sighing.

A couple seats down the bar, Garcia snickered and said “You probably deserved it.”

“But he _heard _me! He wasn’t supposed to hear me!”

If Kitty rolled her eyes anymore tonight, they’d probably get stuck like that, so she did her best to resist. “He’s a vampire, Web. You should’ve known better.” She fixed her eyes on the pouting man. “Or haven’t you been paying attention during training?”

Webster blushed, but he finally quit bitching. Kitty was about to make another quip, but then movement caught her attention and she watched as Dick led Nix out of the bar, calling over his shoulder “Going for a walk—be back in a bit!”

Kitty nodded, then said “Tony, would you mind unpacking this box for me?”

“Sure,” Garcia answered, coming around behind the bar as Kitty maneuvered around it and headed out the back.

She knew that Dick would probably consider this _spying, _and hell, so would Harry, but she couldn’t help it, she was curious. The vampire Lewis Nixon was not what she’d been expecting.

After their initial meeting, Kitty had hauled Dick into the kitchen alone for a little chat. 

_“You’ve been holding out on me, Dick.” Kitty said, quirking a brow at the red-headed hunter._

_“What do you mean?” he asked earnestly, brows furrowed._

_“You never told me he was so handsome.”_

_Then, Dick had blushed, and mumbled something about it under his breath._

_“Is he always this charming?”_

_At that, Dick’s blush began to fade and he rolled his eyes. “When he’s trying to make a good impression.”_

_“So when he’s not, what’s he like?”_

_“About the same, but with more sarcasm and sexual innuendo.”_

_Kitty laughed. “I bet that drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”_

_Dick huffed a laugh. “Well, you know me.”_

_“I do.” Kitty said, eyes growing soft as she studied him closely. Harry had told her that Nix drank bottled pig’s blood, but she couldn’t help flicking her eyes across Dick’s neck, looking for marks. “And it’s been too long since you’ve been by. How are you doing, Dick? Really?”_

_“I’m good.” Dick smiled softly. “Still worried about Lip, but otherwise things are going okay. Had a salt and burn in Harrisburg about a week or so ago.”_

_“I heard. And, uh…with Nix? How’s that going?”_

_“Kitty….” Dick started._

_“Don’t ‘Kitty,’ me. It’s not every day a hunter shacks up with a vampire. I’ve got a right to be concerned about you.”_

_Dick sighed, shoulders slumping. “We’re not ‘shacking up.’” Dick protested._

_“Then what would you call it?” Kitty asked, voice softening._

_“We’re in a serious relationship.” Dick answered._

_“I’ve never known you to be in a relationship.”_

_“That’s because I never really have been.”_

_“But now you are. With him.”_

_“Yes.” Dick said, nodding seriously._

_“And is he just as serious about it as you are?”_

_“He is.” Dick waved his hand vaguely. “That’s why we’re here.” He shook his head. “I mean, come on, Kitty. Why else would a vampire willingly walk into this place?”_

_“He’s a strange one.” She acknowledged._

_“He is. But he’s also honest and brave and he seems to care an awful lot about me.” He took a moment to steady himself before he added. “He loves me, Kitty.” He fixed his eyes on hers. “And I love him too.”_

_Kitty’s throat suddenly went dry at the weight in Dick’s words. She nodded. “Are you happy, Dick?”_

_“Yeah,” he smiled softly. “I think I am.”_

_“Then that’s enough for me,” Kitty assured him, reaching forward to pull him into a hug. He held her for a moment before she murmured, “You should probably go rescue him, though—I think Harry was going to put him to work already.”_

_Dick chuckled. “Alright. And thanks again, Kitty.”_

_“Sure thing.”_

Now Kitty watched as they strolled through the moonlit property, shoulders bumping, hands clasped together between them. Their voices were muted so she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she heard Nix chuckle warmly, and then Dick’s laughter join his. 

She watched them for a few moments before she ducked back into the bar and went to relieve Garcia. She had to admit to herself that she’d never seen Dick so happy before.

Dick, Nix, Harry, and Kitty were sitting around a table, having a cup of coffee in the early hours of the morning when Harry clapped a hand on Dick’s shoulder and said “Hey Dick, do you have a sec? I need your help with something before you guys take off for the night.”

“Sure,” Dick said, like he always did, because he’d never refuse a friend in need.

Nix watched him go, his eyes tracking the sway of Dick’s hips and the way that his broad shoulders filled out his dark t-shirt. 

“Dick’s a handsome guy,” Kitty said, and in that moment, Nix remembered that he wasn’t alone and also that she’d watched him watching Dick.

Nix turned to her, smiling, as he fiddled with the handle of his coffee mug. “Yes, he is.”

Kitty’s piercing brown eyes studied his face and though she was smiling, Nix had the feeling that her smile could cut if she wanted it to. “He cares a lot about you.”

Nix dipped his head in acknowledgement but didn’t look away. “I know. I care a lot about him, too.”

“I’ve been watching the two of you together.” She took a sip of her coffee then seemed to mull her thoughts for a moment before continuing: “It’s interesting. Not what I expected.”

Nix’s brows drew together curiously and he smiled at her. “How so?”

“The two of you are easy together. It seems natural. Like you’ve been together a lot longer than you have.” She smiled at him from under her lashes. “Are all of your relationships like that?”

Nix snorted; he couldn’t help it. “No,” he said, chuckling. “Definitely not.” Kitty simply quirked a brow, so Nix decided to elaborate. “I’ve never really been the, uh… relationship type.”

“Huh.” Kitty took another sip of coffee. “So what makes Dick different, then?”

Nix smiled—he knew this was an interrogation, but he decided she deserved honesty, anyway. She was, after all, an important person in Dick’s life who likely just wanted the best for him. “Everything about Dick is different.” Nix said, shrugging. “He’s a good man, for a start.”

“The best.” Kitty agreed. “And relationships haven’t really been his thing either. That’s what makes this so surprising. So I guess I’m wondering why you?”

Nix shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

Kitty stared at him, smirk quirking her mouth. “That’s it? That’s your sales pitch for yourself? _Hell if I know?_”

Nix shrugged again, still fiddling with the handle of the coffee mug. He was getting hungry again, for something real. He gazed down at the plain white porcelain. “Just trying to be honest.”

Kitty continued to stare at him, and Nix avoided her eyes. “Why are you here, Nix?”

He glanced up at her, briefly, before returning his eyes to the lukewarm coffee still sitting in the mug. “Dick’s a hunter. This is his life.” He shrugged. “I wanna do what I can to make sure he’s safe and that he has the support he needs, because God knows he’s not going to stop.”

Kitty frowned softly. “Would you want him to?”

“Nah,” Nix answered, “I sort of go for that whole righteous Boy Scout thing, apparently.”

And that finally drew a laugh from Kitty. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.” She acknowledged, tipping her head. “A vampire, walking into Hunter Central.”

Nix chuckled. “I do my best, though to be honest, it’s mostly because Dick assured me that you all wouldn’t stake me on sight.”

“I think he’d be upset with us if we did.”

Nix smiled softly. “Yeah. He’s funny like that.”

Kitty stared at him for a long moment, then, and Nix again became acutely aware that they were seemingly alone in the bar. Dick and Harry had gone who knows where and Webster and Garcia had finally headed home. Nothing between Nix and Kitty now except for a short stretch of table. “I think you’re good for him.” Kitty finally concluded. “At least, I hope you are.” She cocked her head, and a soft smile curled her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much.” 

Nix wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he simply nodded.

“And you know what? I think I like you, too. You’re a pretty funny guy. But,” Now Kitty narrowed her eyes at him, though the rest of her posture didn’t change, “Make no mistake. That man is family to me. If you hurt him or betray him in any way, I want you to understand that we will bring down the largest hunter network in the country on your head and there will be no place for you to hide. A stake to the heart would be the least of your worries.”

Nix had been expecting this speech, but somehow he hadn’t expected it to be delivered in quite so calm a tone. In fact, her heartbeat had remained slow and steady the whole time they were alone. Kitty was definitely scarier than Harry. Nix nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” Kitty assessed him for a moment, nodded, then said, “Alright, I guess I’ll text Harry and let him know he can bring Dick back now.”

Nix couldn’t help but laugh.

* * *

Babe and Gene stumbled home as quick as they could, with only a few minor detours where they pressed each other into alleys so that they could kiss each other up against brick walls, their hands wandering, grasping, mouths hungry, gasping into each other. “Home,” Gene would murmur, and then Babe would nod, remembering the way, somehow.

Babe had never been more grateful that his ma worked nights than he was now. The house was dark and empty when they fell in through the door then locked it behind them. Babe’s mind and hands were full of nothing but Gene, who was dark and beautiful and insistent, pushing into Babe’s space, licking into his mouth, moaning his name even as they barely managed the stairs.

All the hair was standing up straight on Babe’s arms and the back of his neck; he felt electrified, exhilarated, and then Gene was there, upon him, slamming the bedroom door closed with a wave of his hand, and Babe didn’t even question it, didn’t care, because then Gene was pushing him back, and he was tumbling onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress and sinking into the blankets. Then Gene was tearing his own shirt off, tossing it to the floor, then following Babe down, crawling over him, and Babe thought he was gonna have a goddamn heart attack, because _he was not prepared for this. _

_“Babe,” _Gene gasped as he straddled Babe and leaned over him, pressing their mouths together again, and then Babe stopped thinking altogether as Gene licked and nibbled and stole Babe’s breath from him. “Need you,” he murmured. He tore his mouth away from the slick heat of Babe’s so that he could press kisses against Babe’s neck. Babe tipped his head back, completely overwhelmed by the force of nature that was Gene Roe, but ready for whatever was about to happen. 

“Whateva you want,” Babe panted.

Gene whined and he murmured a curse in French before pressing his mouth back to Babe’s. He sucked on Babe’s bottom lip, dragging his teeth over it, then he muttered into the damp, heated space between them, “Want ya to fuck me.”

Babe’s brain short circuited, but he nodded, dumbly. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Yeah.” And his body was ready to comply, even if his brain was slow on the uptake. Gene crawled off his lap then hauled him back to his feet, and God, Babe loved how deceptively strong Gene was. 

Their hands were everywhere, peeling each other’s clothes off, kicking their shoes off and shucking their pants, until they were naked in front of each other, and Gene’s dark eyes met his in the dim light of Babe’s bedroom. “Like this,” Gene whispered, turning and pressing back against Babe, arm wrapped back around Babe’s neck like he’d done in the club. And Babe’s cock slid against Gene’s ass, stiffening further with interest. Babe’s eyes fluttered shut. 

“Whateva ya want,” Babe promised again, because holy fuck, who the hell was he to tell Gene no? This was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I want this,” Gene insisted. He reached back for Babe’s hand, then, their fingers twined, ran their hands over his own belly, then down to wrap around his own erection. “Fuck,” Gene hissed, but even that word sounded beautiful on Gene’s lips. He ground his hips back against Babe’s, and Babe thought that he might lose it then and there. “On the bed,” Gene suggested.

“Yeah,” Babe said, hauling the both of them back onto the pile of blankets. 

Gene perched on his knees, Babe on his own behind him, and they continued to press together from their knees to their shoulders. Gene’s ass was driving Babe crazy, grinding back against him, just like he’d done in the club, and Babe found himself thinking, again, that he was way out of his league here. His fingers were still tangled with Gene’s, wrapped around Gene’s cock, stroking firmly.

“Tell me what ya want, Gene,” Babe muttered against the back of the other man’s neck. “Anything.”

“Between my thighs,” Gene gasped, “fuck me.”

So Babe did as he asked—he slid his own length between the tight press of Gene’s thighs, and oh God, it was so tight and hot and sexy, and Gene kept rocking against him, and his ass was so firm and smooth, and Babe gasped, because it felt perfect. 

Gene’s head tipped back against Babe’s shoulder and he hummed, throat and chest vibrating with the feel of it, and he began to murmur again in French, breathy whispers as their bodies rocked together, faster and faster. “Yes, Babe,” Gene muttered, “jus’ like that.” His fingers squeezed around Babe’s, and Babe sped his motions up. 

The heat continued to build between them, and their skin slid against each other, sweaty and hot. Babe leaned forward and latched his mouth on Gene’s shoulder, biting lightly, then sucking, and then Gene was gasping, shuddering, groaning, as he spilled over Babe’s fist. Babe’s hips jerked faster, once, twice, then, and he was falling too, tipping over the edge right behind Gene. He held the other man close to him, fingers clutching nearly tight enough to bruise, and then they both tipped sideways, boneless in the aftermath of their orgasm. 

White spots danced in the corners of Babe’s eyes and he fought to get enough air. He’d never felt anything like that in his whole life—it was hot and sexy and totally consuming. And he knew that it would be a while before his brain was functional enough to form words. He could barely remember his own name at that point. All he could do was shudder, his muscles spasming, and suck in breath after breath.

A few moments later, Gene rolled over to face him, and his dark eyes were peaceful, relaxed, full of love. His mouth was tilted up in a small, soft smile. The storm had apparently passed. He stared at Babe for a moment before he leaned forward and brushed their lips together in an honest, chaste kiss. Babe thought in that moment that there was nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for Gene Roe. Nothing.

Gene’s eyes darkened further, and Babe could practically see the weight of the world resettling on the other man’s shoulders. Gene huffed out a heavy breath and kissed Babe again, before pulling back and murmuring “I don’t wanna leave.”

Babe clutched at the other man, because, yeah…he got it. And he wondered if that’s what the whole night had been about. What the last couple days had been about. He swallowed thickly, and pulled Gene close, so that their bodies warmed one another, and said “Yeah, I don’t want ya to leave, either.” And he knew that if he just held on, and kissed Gene one more time, the other man wouldn’t have to.

* * *

The block around the warehouse was deserted as Carwood made his way toward his destination, an hour before the scheduled meeting. He’d learned the hard way that it was best to arrive early for a meeting you didn’t want to have—set up a perimeter, dominate the space, set the mood for the encounter. 

The night was cool and clear and Luz hadn’t batted an eye when Carwood said that he needed a little alone time for the night—he didn’t know what Luz assumed he was doing, but he didn’t press. He’d left the bar shortly after he’d sent the message so that he had time to stop by the apartment and grab his bottle of holy water. The crucifix he’d been carrying for months now was wrapped around his fist, and the bottle was in his pocket. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use either tonight, but he was prepared to regardless.

Carwood circled the warehouse twice before he went to the creaky side door and pushed it open, shutting it quietly behind him. He made his way to the open area in the center of the building, but stopped dead in his tracks, heart thumping dangerously in his chest, as he saw the shadow already occupying the space, lit from above by a couple dim lights. Carwood sucked in a breath and he clenched his fist around the cross and beads.

The shadow turned and lifted its head, and Carwood met Ron’s eyes for the first time since _that _night. Carwood took a step back, but Ron held his hands up innocently and called “Carwood, wait, please. You don’t have to be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

And his voice sounded so strong, so soothing, so _good _that Carwood felt a shudder go through him, followed by a cold wave of panic. He fought to hold it down. “We both know you don’t need your hands to hurt me.” Carwood replied, voice steady despite the tempest raging inside him.

Ron flinched. Carwood quirked a brow, impressed now by the human mannerisms that he’d once taken for granted. He knew better now. Ron had learned them for his own devices. To better hunt his human prey. To better hunt Carwood.

“That’s…fair.” Ron conceded. “But my statement stands—I mean you no harm.”

Carwood snorted. His eyes trailed the length of Ron’s body—the last time he’d seen it, it had dissolved into ashes as the demon was banished back to Hell. Obviously, the damage was short-lived. For Ron, at least. Carwood was still haunted by those moments in the street. He could still hear his own voice screaming at night, when he lay on Luz’s couch and tried to fall asleep. Could still hear Dick’s determined, steady chant.

“How are you, Carwood?” Ron asked. “You look…tired.”

Carwood rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. What do you care, anyway?”

Ron frowned, just slightly. A twitch of his lips. “I lied to you about who I was, Carwood, I admit that. But I never lied to you about how I felt.”

“Well, that’s convenient. Why in the world would I believe anything you say, now?”

Ron shrugged. “Because it’s true.”

“You’re a demon.”

“Yes. And you’re a hunter. And now, finally, we can be honest with each other.” Ron kicked at a pebble on the floor, then glanced up at Carwood from under his fringe of dark hair. “I’d like to explain myself, if you’ll let me.”

“It won’t make any difference.” Carwood promised.

Again, Ron’s lips twitched toward a frown, but his eyes were fixed on Carwood’s. “I’d like to explain anyway.”

Carwood shrugged, gripping his crucifix tighter in his fist. “Go ahead.”

“I’m old, Carwood. Infinitely old. For most of my existence, the things that you care about meant nothing to me. But I’ve been on earth for a while now, and I’ve learned to appreciate certain things. Freedom, for one. Fresh air. A good cup of coffee. The human soul.”

“Demons take souls.” Carwood murmured.

“Yes.” Ron agreed. “Some of them do. But I’m not that kind of demon.”

Carwood frowned. “What kind are you, then?”

Ron shrugged. “Different. I’m beyond that. At least, I thought I was.”

“Get to the point.”

“The Chicago coven hired me to find and kill you.”

“And they were going to pay you with my soul.”

Ron shook his head. “No, that’s not true. That’s not a price they could’ve promised. The only person who can sell a soul is the person it belongs to. They sold me a contract for your life. Not your soul.”

“What was the price, then?” Carwood asked.

Ron shrugged. “Money. A demon’s gotta make a living, doesn’t he?” Carwood shrugged, obvious disbelieving. Ron sighed, beleaguered. “I didn’t need it, alright. I took contracts because I liked the work. And I had a habit of keeping track of particularly high profile contracts. Hunters were on my radar. When the Chicago coven contacted me, I didn’t hesitate.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“Because I didn’t follow through, obviously. I can see your soul,” Ron said. “Did you know that?” Carwood swallowed thickly, but then Ron narrowed his eyes dangerously. “At least, I could.” He sniffed imperiously, like it didn’t matter, though it obviously did. “That witch of yours has an amazing gift. I can’t see it anymore.”

“Good.” Carwood said, his mouth feeling dry.

Ron’s eyes softened as he met Carwood’s again. “It’s beautiful, you know. Your soul.” He tilted his head, maybe in an effort to see past the Doc’s spell. “That’s why I couldn’t kill you, Carwood. I saw it.” Ron chuckled, but the sound was mirthless. “From a distance, you shone brighter than any human I’ve ever seen. And I knew, from the first time I laid eyes on you that you were special.” Ron closed his eyes for a moment, and a small smile curved his lips. “I observed you for weeks.”

“You stalked me.”

Ron waved his hand, dismissing the accusation. “I learned you. I watched you heal after your accident. I watched you take care of everyone around you. I watched your soul yearn and ache, and despite that, continue to shine.” Ron shrugged. “I decided not to kill you. I wanted to know you, instead.”

“So you arranged a meeting.”

Ron nodded. “I did.” He swallowed thickly. Again, a human mannerism, entirely practiced. “And you were even better in person. Your laugh. Your smile. Your kind words.” Ron smiled at Carwood. “It didn’t take me long to move from wanting to kill you to wanting to protect you.”

Carwood snorted. “Protect me.”

“I did.” Ron insisted. “The coven sent vampires after you when they realized I hadn’t done my job. I destroyed every single one that dared to approach your home. And I would’ve killed the other, too, if it hadn’t been for Winters. He was quicker than I gave him credit for.”

“Leave Dick out of this.” Carwood insisted, feeling his hackles rise. “Why did you want to kill Nix?”

“Because he was a danger to you.” Ron hissed. “And you were trapped with him, behind that damn ward.” Ron forced his shoulders to relax and his voice to calm again. “Your witch, again, I presume?”

Carwood ignored the question about the Doc. “That’s funny, because Nix only ever showed up to help protect us from you.”

Ron snorted. “Figures that’s what the vampire would say.”

“It’s true.”

Ron rolled a shoulder, casually, like it was nothing to him. “Then that was my mistake. I’m not above them, Carwood. But it doesn’t change my intention.”

“Which was?”

“To protect you, like I said.”

“That’s bullshit!” Carwood said.

“It’s true.” Ron insisted. “Carwood, please believe me. I care about you. I lo—…”

“Don’t.” Carwood growled, suddenly, and he advanced a step toward the demon. “Don’t you dare use that word. You don’t know what it means. There’s no way you could.”

“I do.” Ron argued, finally advancing a step of his own. “I came back for you.”

“For something, maybe,” Carwood said, shaking his head, “but not for me.”

“It’s true.” Ron insisted. “Please believe me, Carwood. I care about you and I want you to be safe. I came back to explain myself to you. To get you to forgive me.”

Carwood shook his head, exhausted, sad. “Is that what you really want? Forgiveness?” Ron’s eyes shone in the dim light and Carwood almost believed the desperation he saw there. “Fine. I forgive you. I can’t exactly blame you, after all. You were simply following your nature. But…there can never be anything between us again, either.”

“Please, Carwood,” Ron begged, taking another step forward. Carwood took a step back. “Please, I’ll do anything. I love you.”

“You don’t.” Carwood insisted. “Not really. You don’t know how to.”

“I do!” Ron said, reaching up and grasping at his own chest. “It hurts, Carwood—it hurts, because of you. But for some reason, you’re the only thing that makes it feel better, too. It must be love. I don’t know what else it could be! I never felt it before you.”

“I’m sorry,” Carwood said. “For you pain. I know what it feels like. But it’s not love, Ron. I promise you.” Carwood shook his head sadly, and he felt tears clog the back of his throat. “If you loved me, you’d do what I ask. You’d leave me alone so that I can get my life back.”

“Carwood,” Ron begged, his voice reaching new levels of desperate, “Please. I’m not ready for this to be over. I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll help you.”

“Like you did with the coven?”

Ron frowned slightly, and his eyes narrowed again, like he thought the question might be a trap. “Yes,” he said, warily.

“Killing isn’t the way to show love, Ron. That slaughter was about you, not me.” Carwood shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore. After that night, I mourned you. At least, the thought of you. Who I thought you were. But you’re not him. You’re a demon. And he never existed. I’m sorry if you feel pain,” Carwood said, “But that’s your problem, not mine. And it’s not my job to fix you.” He huffed a wet laugh. “I didn’t come here tonight for you. I came for myself. For closure. Because I needed to prove to myself that you and that man I met in Lancaster are not the same. And I’ve done that. So I think we’re done here.”

Ron took another halting step forward and he reached out toward Carwood. “Please, Carwood, don’t leave like this. Let me start over, please. I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll be honest.”

“No.” Carwood said, throat working to keep the tears at bay. “I’m asking you to forget me. Leave me alone. If you have any real feelings for me, you’ll respect that.”

“Carwood, please!” Ron took another step toward him, and he was so close, now.

Carwood clenched the rosary in his hand, but still managed to keep his voice calm as he took another step back. He met Ron’s wide, desperate eyes, and said “I know all I can do is exorcise you, and it doesn’t seem to keep, but I’ll do it.” He promised. “As many times as I need to.” Ron’s jaw clenched and Carwood took another couple steps away from the demon. “Goodbye, Ron.” He said.

It took all of his willpower to back slowly out of the warehouse, eyes always glued to the demon, who stood, frozen, shell shocked, under the dim light. Carwood didn’t turn his back until he was out the door and on his way back toward Toye’s.

The whole way back, Carwood felt a chill stalking his heels, a shiver crawling up the back of his neck. There were eyes on him, he knew. He could feel them, sliding over his skin like dark, clinging oil. 

The feeling didn’t relent, even as he circled the block around Toye’s, clutching the warding necklace the Doc had made him, whispering a prayer frantically under his breath. Carwood’s pulse raced, and his heart ached, and still, he caught the scent of sulfur on the air.

Hell followed closely on his heels.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, dear readers, comments are love and give me life. They also keep me super motivated to write more. Please let me know what you thought. Also, feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm @realhunterswearplaid.


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